


morning rituals

by moonlustre



Series: the not-natural archive [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Intimacy, Lazy Sex, Morning Sex, Romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:13:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlustre/pseuds/moonlustre
Summary: Rolling hands and effortless giggles; it's a nice way to spend a morning with Sam Winchester.





	

**YOU LAZILY ROLLED** the backs of your hands over your eyes as the rays of the morning sun danced between the curtains of your motel room, and you arched your back as you stretched away the sleepy tenseness that clutched at your bones.  A soft yawn escaped through your petal-soft lips and you moved slowly as to not aggravate the heavy ache that magnetised your head to the marshmallow that was your pillow.  A lethargic intake of breath made you smile as you caught a shaggy mop of brown in the corners of your dusty eyes.  Muscles dressed in a skin of bronze flexed as the figure beside you raised his arms, and beneath the pallid sheets you could feel his toes wriggling against your shins.  An exhausted grunt made your smile widen, and a husky morning greeting made your soul melt.

Sam clumsily shifted onto his side and flicked strands of chocolate away from his equally dark eyes as he sank back into the mattress.  You reciprocated his greeting with a feathery kiss, and his several-day-old stubble grazed your fingertips as you cupped his cheek.  He pressed his forehead against your own and tangled his nimble fingers within your hair, the locks awry and knotted from the night before of inexorable ghost hunting and vigorous lovemaking.  Another kiss brushed over your mouth, your upper lip locked between the light biting of Sam’s teeth for only a few moments before being released, like a criminal on bail.

A heavy sigh left you when you watched the Adam’s apple in Sam’s throat bob as he swallowed, and your hand trailed itself from his face down to the bend between his shoulder and neck.  Noses only millimetres apart, you massaged the tips together; it was a habit Sam adored, especially on mornings like this, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, your plump form moulding to its shape as he gathered you into him, your belly squishing against his chiselled torso.  Your eyelids fluttered as he leaned in for another kiss, just as tired and slow as the last, with a hint of clumsiness as your noses bumped.  Your mouth parted when he rubbed his tongue against your bottom lip and you let out an effortless giggle when he pushed you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress as he left your mouth and trailed down to your clavicle, leaving a beeline of kisses as he went.

Your hand that still resided on his neck traced over his back as he sank into you again, sucking on the skin at the centre of your collarbone, and he pulled your other hand from behind the cotton pillows to lace his fingers with yours.  His hand on your waist travelled down to your thigh and slowly, steadily lifted it up and pulled it in to hug his hip.  Your bare bodies were warm against each other in the peeping light of the sun, and you moaned as he ground his pelvis against your own, his member hard against you.

Sam’s name on your lips pulled him to look at you and you took the opportunity to kiss him again, travelling from his lips across his jaw line to a patch on his neck that you had come to learn he loved to have kissed.  You nibbled as your hand travelled from his back to his buttocks, and you squeezed a cheek as he moaned in your ear.  The action caught him by surprise, but he let out a deep chortle as he pulled away from your mouth, leaving you with a playful smirk as you eyeballed the hickey you’d left behind.

He trailed down to your chest, warm breath rolling over a taught nipple before locking his lips around it.  You dug the back of your head into your pillow, an exasperated moan hung in the air and your nails dug into his shoulder.  Sam shifted his weight to his left so he could free his hand for your thigh before swiping his digits over your groin.  Unwilling to wait, he stroked his middle finger over your clit, forcing another—louder—moan from you.  Your voice breathy and shaken as you stumbled over his name.  His tongue danced over your nipple, his palm glued against yours while the fingers on his other hand traced feather-light circles over your wetness.

You could feel yourself diving for the edge and you arched your back and tightly curled your toes as your voice heightened, breaths ragged and rushed.  You were so close!  Then... nothing; Sam’s mouth had left, followed by his fingers.  You whined, though the noise was closer to an impatient whimper.  He rose back up to plant a slothful kiss on your lips as he positioned himself over you.  With a groan that almost sent you reeling, he buried his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled the faint scent of your favourite shampoo, leisurely grating his hips against yours, entering you.

Each thrust was relaxed and uncalculated; the slow-going rhythm pressed against your sweet spot every time, and a loving grin was stitched over your features, your brows knitted together and your eyelids fluttered.  Your white-knuckle grip on Sam’s palm loosened as you melted beneath him, and your hand on his back swept to the back of his head, your fingers driving through his hair.  His breath soon began to lack control, as did your own as the gap of silence between your cries shortened.  Several moans from the back of Sam’s throat toppled you over and your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave.

The tenseness in Sam’s body was released as he recovered from his own high, and the two of you lay in each other for what felt like decades, waiting for your breathing to slow.  A peck on your cheek told you Sam was ready for the day, and you watched as he hoisted himself up from the mattress before pulling on a pair of boxers and faded jeans.  As he etched towards the door, your lovesick grin widened and you bit on your bottom lip.  He smiled back at you, used to these morning rituals of lazy lovemaking, and he left the room to complete the rite with toasted muffins and a pot of coffee.


End file.
